The Generation of Fashion
by onymouse
Summary: Kise convinces the Generation of Miracles to work as models for a day. This is not one of his better ideas. AoKise.


"So," Kise said, eyes wide and hopeful, "a few of today's models for the magazine shoot are delayed, and my agent asked if you guys could -"

In a demonstration of team unity that made Akashi proud, five voices called out, "Die, Kise." Kise pouted until it became clear that the whole team had built up an immunity to even his most potent wide-eyed, trembly-lipped gaze (Kuroko went so far as to sigh "That's disgusting, Kise-kun"), and then resorted to the logical option of bribery, because he was a professional.

Snacks for Murasakibara; blackmail information for Akashi; a special-edition Maneki Neko for Midorima. For Kuroko, Kise enlisted Momoi's help: her happy squeals when she heard that Kuroko was going to be in a photoshoot would've melted even the hardest heart. Or possibly shattered it with shockwaves; Kise wasn't picky.

Then he turned his attention on Aomine, who was sneakily making his way towards the door.

"Aominecchi," Kise called. Using his considerable skill as a model, he managed to convey through body language alone that Aomine's future sexual career was in severe jeopardy if he didn't come to heel. There was a pregnant pause as Aomine stared at the door with a longing usually reserved for food. Then he turned and sauntered back to the others, glowering.

Kuroko said thoughtfully, "Midorima-kun, please help me with an English colloquialism. Would it be correct to say 'Aomine-kun is Kise-kun's bitch?'"

"What the hell does that mean?" Aomine yelled, as Midorima nodded and Kise went red. "Tetsu, you little-"

-o-

The shot was to be done in pairs, but before the first photo could be taken, the studio was nearly destroyed by the force of Akashi's wrath.

It happened like this:

"I'll be with Shintarou," Akashi said calmly. They'd put him in some sort of leather monstrosity that made him look like a tiny rock star from a really shit band, but his air of utter control was unflappable. "It's only fitting, as the leaders of the team."

The photographer pursed his lips. "Not possible," he said, and plunged on before he noticed the swift narrowing of Akashi's eyes. "With your hair colors and heights? It'd be like a fucking Christmas bromide." He laughed. "Santa and an elf."

The air in the studio went very, very cold. Kise, teeth chattering, grabbed Akashi's arm and hissed, "He has a wife and children."

"Does he," Akashi said quietly. The windowpanes trembled. "He would do well to remember that; it seems like an important fact to know. So important that I can't help but wonder whether some hidden brain trauma is affecting his memory. Perhaps I should open up his skull and check."

There were no complaints after that. The shoot for Murasakibara and Momoi was equally smooth (Kuroko was discarded because he kept showing up as a ghostly blur on the film), and then it was just down to Aomine and Kise.

After a lot of persuasion, they had strong-armed Aomine into something involving multiple chains; Kise took one look and went into raptures of delight ("Aominecchi's so freaking cool," he gushed, while fingering the chains with a wicked smile that sent delightful chills down Aomine's spine). Then Kise disappeared into the changing room, and when he came out it was in full-on professional model my-name-is-Kise-Ryota-and-you-are-now-having-a-sexual-crisis oh-look-there-go-your-pants glory.

"Ow," Murasakibara sulked, rubbing his eyes, because the room had suddenly gotten brighter, as if the spotlights were trying their hardest to illuminate Kise's face. Three of the makeup girls swooned and were revived by the miraculous light streaming from Kise's every pore. Each gorgeous roll of his hips as he walked was accompanied by the sound of applause.

"That's it," Akashi said flatly, "he's off the team. Shintarou, call up Shougo."

Kise didn't hear. He was too busy leaning against the wall with an air of tortured beauty while shamelessly eyefucking the camera. The others stared in disbelief as he winked towards the wings and caused an epidemic of nosebleeds throughout the staff, a few of whom had to be taken away in ambulances.

"Aomine-kun," Kuroko said, shuddering a little, "please get this over with before Kise-kun becomes my most disliked person in the world."

Aomine obliged for once. The shot went smoothly; despite Kise's obvious presence, Aomine made for a good supporting character, his tan a nice contrast to Kise's pale skin. The photographer put them through a series of everyday poses and then dismissed them, looking faintly puzzled.

"That was revealing," Midorima remarked, as Aomine and Kise disappeared into the changing room.

"What was?" Murasakibara asked, but let the question go in favor of joining the team cheer of "DIE, KISE."

-o-

When the magazine finally came out, none of Kise and Aomine's pictures had made the cut. Kise flipped through the pages with a disconsolate stare, eyeing the ranks of fangirls who had abandoned him to go flocking to the new team models. "I don't understand," he wailed. "Aominecchi was really cool and I wasn't any different from normal, so what happened?"

"Perhaps you couldn't compare to Midorima-kun's incandescent beauty," Kuroko told him. Kise let out a strangled noise and promptly had the worst practice session of his entire career, which earned him fifty laps around the court and meant that he was late to his afternoon shoot.

When he arrived, his agent held out a folder with a small shrug. "Here," she said, biting her lip. "Sorry about this, Kise-kun, but I think you'll see why these were unuseable."

Kise drew out one picture, then the next, until his hands were overflowing with the photos. "Take a moment," his agent said, patting him on the shoulder and walking out of the room. He waited for the door to close and then buried his head in his arms, willing himself to stop shaking.

In each picture, Kise pouted and smile and sneered at the camera, utterly at ease. And in each picture, Aomine stared at Kise with something approaching reverence, as if he had discovered the meaning of life and it was leaning against him in a pair of leather pants.

"Aominecchi, you idiot," Kise said to the empty room, once he thought he had his voice under control, "you could just say 'I love you' like a normal person."

Then he gathered up the photos with trembling hands and tucked them carefully into his bag.

-o-

As soon as Aomine opened the door, Kise pounced. The two of them hit the floor hard, but Kise swallowed up Aomine's protests in a kiss that turned less-than-innocent really quickly. Aomine went along with it until groping had been introduced, then pried Kise off because they were still in the entrance hall and some discretion was required.

"What the hell?" he asked, staring up in confusion.

"Nothing," Kise chirped back, his hair in disarray and his eyes sparkling. "Say, do you still have those chains?"


End file.
